


Nothing Quite Like New Year's Eve

by thesadchicken



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: It's New Year's Eve in Villeneuve and at the Castle. White rooftops and glistening trees, a fire crackling in the fireplace, dimmed lights and best wishes.Written forBATB Holiday Fic Exchange.





	Nothing Quite Like New Year's Eve

Such a beautiful sight: white rooftops and glistening trees, and a small red banner swaying with the wind, dancing under a winter sky. Belle squinted at the green lettering on the banner. ‘ _Bonne année à tous’_ , it read, in a child’s handwriting.  She had only just reached the very first row of houses in the village, and already the smell of freshly baked pies and warm wine tickled her nostrils.

There was nothing quite like New Year’s Eve in Villeneuve. Perhaps Belle’s longing for her little town during the holiday season wasn’t quite as bizarre as Cogsworth had implied. “Leaving the castle on New Year’s Eve for that vulgar little village!” he’d snorted haughtily, and Lumiere had shrugged, “Lighten up Cogsworth, let the girl have some fun.”

Belle was glad she’d left Phillipe at the border and had come down here by foot. The sights and smells and laughter behind candlelit windows were to be savored. Streaks of snow clung to trees and bushes alike, their immaculate whiteness turned gold by the late afternoon sunlight. Belle’s heart was filled with childish joy. 

She’d carried a little basket with her all the way to the village. She wanted to fill it with different kinds of sweets and cakes and maybe even an orange or two. Cogsworth would scoff, of course, and Cuisinier would be outraged. But Belle knew very well that the castle sweets and cakes and oranges were all better than the village’s. It was no competition.

What she really wanted was a taste of her childhood.

She’d never been fond of Villeneuve. She’d always longed for Paris, for her mother, for her freedom. But the holidays were different. People were warmer during Christmas and before the New Year. Fires were started in fireplaces, _galettes_ were made in ovens, and new books were donated to the church. Belle remembered reading under the Christmas tree until January, when her father would laugh and ask her how many times she’d read the two books she’s borrowed.

Belle breathed in the smell of cinnamon and oranges and warm milk – not from her childhood, but from here and now. She’d entered a narrow street, and music was playing from inside one of the houses. An accordion and a violin. The sun was setting.

Belle reached the end of the street and walked out into the village square. Lights – so many lights… she was momentarily blinded by them. A string of lanterns hung across the square, their light flickering in the evening. Other candles were perched high in the houses and on windowsills. A great fire was burning in the middle of it all, and Monsieur Dumont was keeping a careful eye on it, hunched over a tiny wooden stool.

“Happy new year, Mademoiselle Belle,” he called out.

“Happy new year to you too, Monsieur Dumont,” she smiled, swinging her basket as she crossed the square to the bakery.

Oh, how her life had changed since last year. She only really felt the difference now – in Villeneuve on New Year’s Eve, when she had a glimpse of what her life had been. When, for only an hour or two, she could walk through her past as she walked through the village, buying cakes and candy and oranges, and even stopping by the church to see Père Robert. This time she did not borrow books, but she donated quite a few.

As the sun began sinking behind the horizon, the air got colder. Belle pulled her red cloak over her shoulders and head and looked at her quiet village once more. Through her newfound eyes, it looked small, but somehow not as small as it had seemed during all those years.

“May this new year bring nothing but joy to you, Villeneuve,” Belle whispered, and she knew that a phantom wind would carry her wishes and prayers to every family in town.

~

Adam was waiting for her at the border, his horse tied next to Philippe. He was sitting on a log, his back to the village, and he was staring into the depths of the forest. He looked like a fallen prince, his hair cascading down his shoulders and his dark blue cloak dusted with snow.

“Got terribly bored without me, did you?” Belle teased as she walked up to where he sat, his chin propped onto his palm.

“I didn’t hear you coming,” he turned towards her.

She sat next down to him, wincing as the cold wood bit into her skin through her dress. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, only a few minutes,” Adam smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Belle reached out and gently brushed some snow out of his eyelashes. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed and turned away – his eyes swimming around the forest in a restless frenzy. “It’s just this season. Winter. The snow, the bitter cold, the naked branches…”

Belle said nothing. She knew what he meant; the curse had condemned him to eternal winter, eternal torment under a tortured sky. She looked at him, at his human face.

“So cold. So… merciless. Indifferent,” Adam went on, “It reminds me of what I am – _was_ ,” he corrected, a second too late.

Belle shook her head. “You are not a monster,” she muttered.

“Not anymore, or at least not outwardly –”

“Adam, look at me,” she said so firmly that he immediately obeyed. His eyes were blue and sad, his tanned face framed by all the snowy white, and his lips were pink and chapped. He was beautiful.  “You are beautiful. Now and then and always.”

His eyes seemed to get sadder. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Belle’s gloved hands slid up Adam’s chest and onto his neck and then came up to cup his cheeks. “You deserve every good thing in the world.”

He bit the inside of his cheeks, unconvinced. So Belle went on, “I don’t believe in absolution, Adam. Atonement? Redemption? No. I don’t think that’s how it works,” she pulled his face closer to hers, “I believe in people being good from the very start. They sometimes lose their way, or lose themselves. But that doesn’t mean they become evil. You are not your past. You are not lost anymore.”

His eyes never left hers.  And when he spoke, his words came up in little puffs of steam. “I love you, Belle.”

“I love you too, Adam,” she kissed him on the lips.

~

The fire was crackling and spluttering in the fireplace, the lights were dimmed and the bedsheets smelled of lavender. Lumiere nuzzled up against Plumette as she slid her arm around his waist and sighed happily.

There was nothing quite like New Year’s Eve at the castle. The halls were still gleaming with Christmas decorations, the ballroom was shimmering with a thousand floating lanterns – even the kitchens had boughs of holly and little wreaths hanging here and there.

Everyone around the castle was joyful too, humming songs and baking cakes and sewing the ugliest gloves and mittens. It was Lumiere’s favorite time of year.

But right now he was quite content staying in bed with Plumette, cuddling by the fire. He put his head against her chest and counted her heartbeats, one… two… three… then he kissed her cheek.

She giggled. “Does that mean it is time to get up?”

Lumiere put his head back on her chest and closed his eyes. “No, not yet _ma chérie_ … Let us spend the last hours of the year together.”

Plumette hummed in agreement, and for a while they just lay together, eyes closed, small smiles tugging at the corners of their lips. When Lumiere shifted to change into a more comfortable position, something caught his eye. Something white and glistening in the windows behind them. Something floating in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Plumette!” he exclaimed, jumping out of bed and turning towards the windows, “it’s snowing! Look!”

Plumette pushed herself onto her elbows. She craned her neck and tried to look over the bedpost at the windows. “I can’t see a thing,” she let herself fall back onto the pillows.

Lumiere smiled and shook his head admonishingly. “Too lazy to get up, _ma petite plume_?”

Stretching with feline grace, Plumette nodded. “ _Oui_ , _mon amour_ , but I really wish I could see the snow… from here.”

Lumiere shrugged. “Not a problem.”

He pulled back the sleeves on his white shirt, revealing delicate forearms. Plumette laughed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Lumiere said nothing. Instead, he grabbed the bedpost and yanked it to the side, sliding the entire bed a few inches to the left. Plumette’s eyes were wide open. “Lumiere?”

“You shall see the snow, _mon petit oiseau_ ,” he panted, pushing the bed around, “and you shall see it without having to move a finger.”

A few tugs and pulls later, the bed was facing the window, and Lumiere was breathing hard, and Plumette was clapping in delight. “This is perfect,” she chuckled, leaning up to place a quick peck on his lips. But then she knitted her brows in a frown and twisted her mouth to one side. “Hm, _almost_ perfect.”

Lumiere raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Plumette pulled the sheets up under her nose, but he could still see the playful smile that crept onto her lips. “I have the snow, but I lost the fire… and you do know how I adore fire, _mon chéri_.”

Lumiere couldn’t help the smirk that painted his own lips. “Ah, but fire is my specialty, _ma douce_.”

He gave her a theatrical wave and bowed deeply. Plumette giggled again and watched as he ran around, gathering three candelabras from different spots across the room and then ran back to her. Crouching in front of the bed, he placed the unlit candelabras under the window and blew on them. A spark of light flickered in the air, and then all three candelabras were magically alight, burning with a steady flame.

“Is this enough fire for your liking, Mademoiselle?” Lumiere teased, turning back to Plumette.

“Mmm… not nearly enough, Monsieur,” she purred, opening her arms invitingly.

Lumiere fell right into her embrace, and as he kissed her passionately, he silently wished a happy new year to everyone in the castle, knowing that from now on, whatever he wished for would come true.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! And happy 2018!


End file.
